


Spread Throughout the Galaxy

by Alienea



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Wingfic, i might have made an angst sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienea/pseuds/Alienea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How their wings define them and how they change them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rey

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently every written contribution I make to a fandom is going to be wingfic! I've got one more section written, I'm working on writing more, and theoretically it will end up in three sections

In the desert, Rey’s wings stay tight against her back. Her wings remain clipped until she’s strikes out on her own, but even after the next molt, she remains on the sand, looking at the sky and following streaks that the ships leave in the sky. She knows, theoretically, that she could use them to loft into the air and shake the sand and dust of the desert off of her back. She doesn’t. They balance her as she scavenges, digging into wrecks no one else bothers with, finding enough to make it to the next day, the next week, the next month, the next year. She tucks her wings under a cloak, cringing from the whispers of those at Niima Outpost.

_Black wings, never a good sign._

_They’re completely black, too. I don’t know why Unkar Plutt deals with her._

Every time she sees Unkar Plutt give people more portions for the same items she had just brought him, she pulls her wings close to herself and pretends it’s her parents, draping a wing over her in comfort, before taking her portions and water ration and skimming away from the outpost. Her days continue and she grows and her wings remain sleek and broad, and Rey wonders, as she glides down from the top of the derelict Star Destroyer to the desert sand, bag of parts banging into her side, if her parents would return if she just did something about her wings. She spends that night looking at them, spread out around her, and fingering the sharp edge of a knife. Eventually, she combs her fingers through her feathers, and leaning against the rapidly cooling hulk of the AT-AT, watches the stars above her. When she finally goes inside for the night, her wings are the sleekest they have ever been, and she feels, deep within herself, that something is going to happen.

She finds a BB droid being dragged along by Teedo, frees it, and almost against her better judgment agrees to take it to Niima when it asks to follow her. She stares at the heap of portions spread out before her, and her wings leave her back to curve longingly towards enough food to feed her for a _very long time_. But she looks down at the droid, still against the sand, and ---

“No.” She grabs the portion she is due for the other scavenging and twirls around, the BB unit following at her heels. Every step she takes feels lighter, and she sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to quite believe that she did that. She leans down and pats the droid. “I hope you find your master, then.” She straightens and makes to gather her water ration before leaving for another day of scavenging, but then two complete idiots try to jump her and BB8, and she has to show them, in no uncertain terms, why they should not mess with her, beating them into the ground and flaring her wings, watching with grim satisfaction as they scramble away, before BB8 points her in the direction of a coat thief, and she briefly takes off to get ahead of him, landing in front of him and throwing him to the ground. He’s strange, with no wings, but she’s hardly one to judge and in any case they’re soon running for their life, learning on the fly as she pilots the garbage ship across the deserts of Jakku. She feels her wings flaring behind her in some sort of vicarious reaction as she pulls the ship up into a flip, smiling sharp and victorious when Finn hits the last tie fighter. It’s not until they’re hovering in space, frantically trying to fix the ship before she and Finn die of poisonous gas that she feels a tug, deep in her heart, reminding her that she’s left Jakku behind. She flinches, her wings curving tight against her back, and she takes a moment to just breathe before returning to commanding Finn to pass her the next tool she needs and asking BB8 where they need to go. It would be helpful, she thinks, if BB8s master was alive. Or at least some agent of the Resistance. But she and Finn are all there is, and they will do this.

She doesn’t get a chance to ask him what’s up with his wings until after they meet Han Solo, the smuggler who made the Kessel Run in only 14 parsecs, with his tapered brown wings tucked neatly behind his back, and find out the garbage ship is actually the Millennium Falcon, and it made the Kessel Run in 12. They’re in transit to the friend Han Solo says will help them when she pulls Finn aside and asks, quietly,

“Hey, did you lose your wings recently? Do we need to pick up some--” She gestures helplessly. She doesn’t know what type of medicine or healing could possibly help such a wound. “Well, anything? You’re not bleeding out, are you?” He shakes his head and pulls away, slightly.

“No. I never had any.” She stops her own wings from curving out to try and comfort him, and just nods.

“Alright.”

 

They land, and Han Solo offers her a job. She wants to accept, with nearly every part of her being, but she remembers her family and Jakku and pulls herself back to the present, back to reality, and declines. Then Finn leaves her, and the lightsaber shows her a world of possibilities, mingling grief and hope beamed straight into her head, and she runs into the forest, tripping over unfamiliar terrain like _roots_ as she puts distance between herself and the horrible truth of Jakku. She wonders, wildly, as she runs back towards Maz Kanata’s palace how BB8 is managing, rolling in the opposite direction, as she flares her wings to avoid losing her balance completely. She uses Han’s blaster to stop a few stormtroopers, noticing that just like Finn, they lack wings. As she starts to run back into the forest she wonders if all stormtroopers lack flight, and then she no longer has the luxury of thought beyond survival as a figure all in black with what is a frankly cobbled together mask starts chasing her.

She can feel her wings trembling against her back as she struggles to move, caught in air that has become stone, and hopes BB8 is safe. When she is knocked unconscious, her last thought is that all the black must be a form of overcompensation for the light brown and white wings.

She doesn’t like to think of the chamber where the asshole entered her mind. Strapped down, lying uncomfortably on her wings, with a wraith of black swirling around her. She’d have almost thought he was a ghost, tormenting the living, but for the wings that she saw numerous times flutter like a movement had been repressed. He had been very careful to keep from showing her his back, until she forced her way into his mind, plucking a secret from it as he had been doing to her. Then he stormed out of the room, leaving his helmet behind, wings outstretched and trailing behind him, leaving a stormtrooper and few discarded feathers.

The sensation of pushing against the stormtrooper’s will, to release her and leave her with his weapon, leaves Rey feeling off-balance and unsure of her place in the world, with a sick taste in her mouth. She reasons to herself that she doesn’t want to die, so it’s completely different than that asshole’s digging in her head, slings the stormtrooper’s weapon over her shoulders, and tries to feel what the best path forward is, drawing on half-forgotten rumors of what the Jedi had been able to do, at the peak of their power. It works, she guesses, although maybe her luck has just been exceptionally good, until she gets stuck between two groups of stormtroopers right next to a hangar bay. She looks into the depths of the abyss separating her from the corridor on the other side, and wonders why there’s no bridges before slipping over the side in desperation, snapping open her wings as she carefully navigates to a lever, pulling open the section of the wall and slipping inside, once again tucking her wings in close. For a base built by and presumably mainly for the use of those without wings, the architecture did seem to rely on flying to get across gaps like the one she had just been gazing into, she reflected.

When Han and Chewbacca and Finn find her, she feels her wings relax from their tense position as she pulls Finn into a hug.

“Chewbacca said that it was your idea, to come back for me.” She grins at him, her wings relaxed behind her, and for a few seconds she almost forgets they’re on a base with a monster stalking the halls. Then they’re out in the cold, and she and Finn have to make sure that Han and Chewbacca can get inside to the thermal oscillator. It’s freezing, and Rey wishes she had a jacket. Finn offers her Poe’s, tells her with a small grin that BB8 and Poe had been reunited, that Poe had been alive after all. But her wings won’t fit through Poe’s wingslits, so she smiles and presses it back to him and shivers through the snow as they climb into the oscillator to see if there’s anything they can help with now that Han and Chewbacca are in. But then it all breaks down.

Han is facing the wraith on a bridge over a pit, and she wants to scream at him to back off, to run, can’t he see what’s in front of him? And then. And then. There’s a red light through Han’s body, and he’s reaching out to the _monster_ one last time before he pitches over and falls into the pit, and she hears someone yelling, in agony and in pain, and realizes, dimly, that it’s her. Chewbacca shoots the monster on the bridge and Finn drags Rey away, despite her wings flaring to their maximum wingspan. She only relents when Chewbacca blows the charges, crying as she and Finn run into the forest, heading towards the Millennium Falcon, barely pulling up when the monster, the asshole that killed Han Solo appears before them. She spares a minute to wonder how he got ahead of them before realizing of course, they hadn’t been flying, and he had. His wings are splayed behind him, shivering, and she spares a moment to be viciously glad he wasn’t unaffected by killing Han Solo.

The monster sends her flying back, and the next thing she knows he is standing over a prone Finn, and she clambers up as he turns around and extends his arm to the lightsaber from Maz Kanata. Desperate and unsure, she extends her own arm and feels her wings spread behind her, and calls it to her as it had called to her, stuck in the box in the basement. Maybe it’s taken a while, but she’s never been one to ignore good salvage, and this lightsaber had called to her and now she needs it. She closes her eyes and pulls and it flies straight past the monster’s face, into her hand and she breathes out ‘thank you’ before falling into a stance that seems almost natural despite its complete foreignness, and ignites the lightsaber.

She thinks she should be despairing at the edge of the cliff, but all she feels is calm. She ignores him to close her eyes and draw on that calm, and suddenly she understands what she has to do, how she has to move, and she flares her wings and beats the monster back, leaving him on the other side of the newly opened rift, bleeding and alone, to save Finn. He’s not worth her anger, she thinks, but it will take her time to drain the anger, if she ever can. Between her and Chewbacca, they get off the disintegrating planet and deliver Finn to the doctors of the Resistance.     She lets herself melt into General Organa’s embrace, trying to comfort the woman, letting her own black wings overlap the gold speckled black of General Organa’s wings. She looks at the knot of people celebrating, just a few yards away, and leans into the General and offers comfort as she is comforted in turn.

 

After the rollercoaster of the past few days, finding Luke Skywalker is almost anticlimactic. She watches the Falcon disappearing into the sky, cradling in her heart Chewbacca’s promise of returning next week for a visit, and perhaps bringing Poe and Finn if Finn has awakened.

The training uses parts of her mind that she’s never had reason to exercise as much as she is now, and she finds herself collapsing into sleep with no energy to stay awake or dream, her days filled with practicing with the Force and learning the forms necessary for lightsaber battle. Occasionally, she wonders at the emphasis placed on keeping wings from possible damage, wondering what, exactly, lightsaber battle entailed to make wing protection so important when it surely plays into every battle humans take part in. She stops wondering when she sees Luke’s wings slip out from under the cloak, and he winces when they stretch. She sees the knot of scar tissue and wonders: who would have injured him there?

She looks around the planet and wonders why he would come here, to this place where flight would be necessary to travel from island to island. She wonders if it’s a form of penance.

 

When she sees the Falcon in the sky, something in her heart unclenches and she dives off the cliff to get to the landing site, unwilling to even add the extra time that running down the stairs would take. She lands right at the foot of the landing ramp, and tackles Poe and Finn in a hug, and they’re still sitting like that, hugging and smiling when Luke arrives.


	2. Finn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FN-2187 falls from the nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for: panic attack, stormtrooper decommissioning mentioned
> 
> ....This was supposed to be longer, but I'm getting stuck on making Finn TALK so.

 

            FN-2187 doesn’t realize that he and his brothers are abnormal. They have been taught, have heard, over and over, that they were not destined for wings. That the First Order has saved them from the Republic, where such creatures as he would be jeered at, made into objects of derision for their lack of wings. The stormtroopers, among themselves, pass rumors amongst themselves until the tales of what is done to wingless humans in Republic space become stories of such horror that they die out, told only in whispers to new recruits, warnings. No matter what you think of the First Order, they are told, it is worse in the Republic. Here, you are safe as long as you obey.

            Occasionally, the scars on FN-2187’s back ache and he can almost feel wings behind him and he wonders why all stormtroopers would be born with cruel reminders of what they cannot have and will never have. Even Captain Phasma has no wings under her chromed armor. FN-2187 watches the commanders and the officers, and how they interact and emote with their wings, and he has to bite down sobs at the pain that begins emanating from his back. Sometimes he thinks he’s not been careful enough, that they know, the officers know, and the longer he survives and hides under the radar the more a feeling grows within him. He has to escape.

            But he can’t. He can’t fly free.

 

            Jakku is a revelation. Slip dies in FN-2187’s arms and he seems the sympathy in the old man’s gaze, flicking over the stormtroopers before Kylo Ren cuts him down. FN-2187 shudders, and makes a choice. The only one he could make. Maybe reeducation will fix this ache inside of him, he isn’t fool enough to think that no one will notice that he has fired no shots, killed no people. He squares his shoulders and walks to his doom, pulls off his helmet on the shuttle when everyone has left and tries to keep on breathing.

            After Phasma, he wonders. If he’s already slated for reeducation, there aren’t many other consequences. For him, it’s reeducation or death now, and he knows what he would rather do.

            There’s a problem.

            He needs a pilot.

            Luckily, there’s one on board. The man is streaked in blood, his wings a dazzling display of black and white, iridescent and orange. FN-2187 almost gasps when he sees the ripped out feathers on the floor. He may not have wings, but he feels a pang in his back and it takes every piece of discipline and iron will that FN-2187 has cultivated in his years of service to the First Order to take the man and execute his escape plan. The pilot’s relief, when he realizes that they are in a TIE fighter and they are free, is almost palpable, and the newly named Finn can’t repress the smile spreading across his face. He’s free, he’s out—they’re hit.

           

            He watches the TIE fighter sink below the sand and despairs, holding the jacket of the first man to see Finn as a human being. He doesn’t know what to do without someone to advocate for him, he doesn’t want to become the next story told to stormtroopers about the fate of the wingless humans outside the Order. He clutches his arms to himself and keeps on walking. He made his choice, and he will keep on walking until he can’t.

 

            He’s not surprised, really, that the woman beats him up and the droid zaps him. He’s marked with no wings and he’s only recently gained a name, so there’s no reason for them to respect him. He’d hoped that Poe’s droid—the BB unit recognizable with the orange and white trim that Poe had described--- would be as tolerant as Poe, and not judge him. When he realizes it’s because he’s wearing Poe’s jacket, Finn is relieved. He can handle this, even if he realizes seconds later that he has to tell the droid that their master is dead. He presses his back to the ground and groans. There’s no point in doing anything but telling the truth.

            “Your master’s dead.” He shuffled back, pushing himself up. He glances up at the woman, and almost winces at what he sees, her wings held slightly out and rigid. “Poe Dameron, right? He was captured by the First Order. I helped him escape, broke him out of his cell, and we stole a TIE fighter” Finn frowns. “We did some damage to the Order, but… He insisted on coming back to Jakku. For you,” Finn gestures at the BB unit. “We were shot down, I ejected safely, and when I tried to help Poe get out of the TIE fighter… I was only able to grab the jacket. I couldn’t get him out.” Finn watches the BB unit turn around and roll away, dejection apparent in the tilt of the dome and demeanor of the droid.

            Finn almost thinks he’s free and clear when the woman asks him if he’s from the Resistance. He’s not a fool, he knows that people in the Resistance are born with wings like he is not, and he curls in on himself slightly before answering.

            “No. Sorry, no. I just helped Poe Dameron escape. I know what his mission was, if that helps. Get back to the Resistance, with information.” He dares a look up, and sees the woman. Her wings aren’t held as tightly, and she almost seems relaxed. He relaxes slightly in turn.

            “Well,” she says, “then we’ve got to get BB8 to the Resistance. They’ll know where to go.” Finn blinks.

            “Y-Yes. Alright.” He sees a flash of white out the corner of his eyes and stiffens again. He turns his head slightly, and sees two Stormtroopers, being pointed at him and the woman and the droid. He scrambles into a standing position, grabs her hand, and runs as the stormtroopers start shooting.

            What feels like hours, but cannot be more than twenty minutes later, they’re introducing themselves, and Finn almost introduces himself by his designation before correcting himself. He dodges questions about his past, and between him, Rey, and BB8, they’ve got the ship working right when they get stuck in a tractor beam.

 

            Finn can’t believe that in the space of twenty four hours he’s defected from the First Order, decided to join the Resistance instead of _sensibly_ running far out of the reach of the First Order and staying gone, and met the actual Han Solo. Some part of Finn looked at Han Solo and heard the stories they told the stormtroopers, stories of Han Solo and his vicious accuracy and disregard for order, preferring chaos. Finn almost believes the tales, figures they must have a grain of truth, but that anyone so gruffly kind, with wings that taper so neatly and are so richly deeply brown, curving gently with his words could not be all bad. Even if he was carrying **_three_** rathtars on his ship. Rathtars!

            He still got them onto Starkiller Base, and trusted Finn to get the shields on the Base down. Trusted Finn, a former stormtrooper. He couldn’t believe it. And he died. Finn saw Han Solo tip over the edge of the bridge, wings fluttering behind him, and some part of him breaks, quietly. When Chewbacca shoots Kylo Ren in the side, causing his wings to flare, Finn pulls Rey away and out of the oscillator. They’ve got to leave before Kylo Ren recovers and get off of Starkiller Base.

            He doesn’t remember much of anything, after that. Vague flashes of blue and red, and he thinks he heard Rey scream. He’s told, afterwards, that he spent weeks in a coma, being healed. Poe tells him the med droids spent almost a day working on his spine, applying bacta and gently correcting his spine and back, stitching together the nerves until all that’s left is a thin line running between the pre existing gashes on his back. The med droids ask him, afterwards. When his wings had been removed. Finn can only stare at them blankly, and in that moment he feels like FN-2187 again. This is it. He will have to tell them he was born without, and they will stop caring for him, they will toss him into a cell, they will leave him to wither and die and stop wasting resources on him and – and—he can’t breathe, he can’t _breathe_ — maybe they’ve already figured it out, and they’ve removed the oxygen from the room, the droids don’t need it, he doesn’t want to die.

 

            The next time he wakes up, Poe is there, sleeping in a chair that has been pulled next to the medical bed, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair more rumpled than ever. FinnPoe wakes when Finn shifts, and Finn freezes, pretending he hadn’t been about to leave.

            “Finn, buddy.” Poe grins. “Gave everyone quite a scare. The Med Droid, whose name is F6-D0, by the way, wants to apologise. They know that wing removal can be really traumatic, but they needed to know for the records. It’s something that has to be corrected for during physical therapy, which you’ll probably need after that back injury.” Finn curls up, slightly. He doesn’t think Poe would—that Poe would --- he doesn’t even want to think about it. “Finn? Hey, it’s okay. I know the First Order probably didn’t do anything to help you. We know that the First Order only puts people into battle who have somehow had their wings -” Poe hesitates. “Removed. In some way. We don’t know how, but. We’re willing to help you. Was it. Recent?”

            Finn shakes his head and curls up even more. He feels Poe start to pat his shoulder.

            “You don’t have to tell us. We’d like to help you, but you don’t have to dig up any old trauma. None of us can imagine it, Finn, and we’re not going to worsen any trauma you might have.” Finn tightens up even more, ignoring the painful stretch in his back. He’s sure the droid, F6-D0, will tsk at him. But it’s better than being tossed out.

            Eventually, Poe does leave, and calls F6-D0 back in. The droid does tsk at him, and applies a bacta salve to his back. They say, tentatively, quietly, “you may tell me to stop at any point. However, based on my observations, I believe your wings were removed when you were very young. You may not even remember. Can you confirm that you do not remember a time without wings?” Finn flinches, and almost starts to curl into himself before he remembers that F6-D0 is right there, and will surely reprimand him again.

            “Please. I don’t. Want to talk about it.” Their hands hover over Finn’s back before smoothing salve over the gashes that Finn has had as long as he can remember.

            “No negative reactions will be incurred as a result of your words. It is not your fault.” Finn shakes his head.

            “No.” They finally desist, smearing a last gob of bacta on his back before retreating.

            “I will return in approximately three standard hours. Poe Dameron has requested to see you. Do you accept?” Finn nods.

            “Yeah. That’s fine. Send him in.” F6-D0 leaves, and a few minutes later the door slides open to reveal Poe again.

 

            “Hey. Listen, you don’t have to talk to me about. Whatever made you panic. But have you thought about therapy?” Finn stares at Poe blankly. Whatever Poe’s suggesting, he’s never heard of before, and he’s not sure it isn’t some softened form of figuring out he’s useless. Finn shrugs, stiffly.

            “Don’t know what that is.” Poe nods.

            “Yeah… Well, basically, you talk to someone who’s trained to listen and help you work through any trauma you might have. That’s a really simplistic explanation, but… That’s the basics of it. They’re not allowed to tell anyone about what you tell them unless you say you’re going to hurt yourself or others.” Finn nods.

            “You don’t have to, but… It might help. I’m seeing a therapist about… About being captured, by Kylo Ren. They recommend some coping strategies, and help work through that pain.” Finn shrugs and rolls over.

            “I’ll try it.” Finn turns his head back slightly, and sees Poe smile.

            “Great! I’ll talk to F6-D0 about getting you an appointment.” Finn nods and pulls the blanket on the bed up over his head.

            “I’m tired, Poe. I’m going to go to sleep.” He sees Poe smile, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious, the wings so far are:  
> Rey: Raven  
> Han: Alpine Swift  
> Kylo: Northern Mockingbird  
> Luke: Albatross  
> Leia: Phillipine Eagle


End file.
